When a Good Man Goes to War
by I Am A Difference Maker
Summary: What starts out as a would-be routine negotiation with a recently liberated planet turns sour with devastating results.
1. Prologue

There was silence in the cell that housed the three abused men. The kind of silence that is devoid of sound, but full of meaning and heavy with emotion. The kind that feels tangible and drives you crazy as you sit. It leaves a ringing in your ears, but you don't, or can't, break it. There's no point, you say. There's nothing to verbalize that would be worthwhile. That would break the pregnant silence.

The cell that housed the men and this quiet was made out of unrefined turquoise. The walls and floor, blue-green from the rock and glowing in places from the duel suns that peeked through the window, were rough from the raw gemstone. Every move would scrape any uncovered skin and snag at clothing. If not for being a cell, the room would be quite beautiful.

Two of the men were standing, backs against the wall with their wrists chained above their heads. One of the two was limp, his legs and arms barely supporting his body as he sagged with the gravity of both the planet and their situation. He just wanted to be back on his ship, in his bed, and far from this planet. The other man stood erect, as if being physically restrained by rusted chains was merely a slight inconvenience and not a somewhat terrifying trial.

The third man was on the floor leaning against the rough wall. His palms were scraped and colored with dried blood, but he had long forgotten about the stinging. His hatred was blocking out most things. The discomfort, the trauma, the echoes of the terrible screaming- He hated everything right now. He hated his captain who had screamed himself hoarse not three hours ago. He hated his first mate for being so calm and emotionless through this. He hated this stupid cell and its skin-tearing texture. He hated the two suns and their never-ending light that made it hard to sleep. He hated that his body needed sleep. He hated that he was the only one unrestrained. He hated that they had only left him with his hypo. He hated the kid.

What did he hate the kid for? Well, obviously for, uh- Uh, what _did_ he hate the kid for? For not lying and getting himself out of torture? Yeah, that would work.

The kid was too honorable. Ah, hell, who was he kidding. It wasn't about honor. It was about keeping everyone safe. And this was one situation where telling the truth over and over and over again was actually going to keep everyone safe. Everyone except himself. What kind of screwed up universe did they live in where the truth was met with torture and not release?

Forcefully rubbing his hand over his face, he felt something wet smear on his nose and cheeks. He stared at the blood on his hand. Why did it have to be the kid? Why couldn't it have been the captain or first mate or, hell, he'd even have volunteered himself. How did they end up in this place, broken in spirit? His mental breakdown of the day before relinquished no hint of betrayal or distrust in their hosts-turned-captors. It was just a sudden flip. Like a switch. They had gone from distinguished guests to enemies of the entire country. Or whatever they called the region their government ruled. He didn't know or care.

He wanted to say that there was a lot he didn't care about anymore. But that was only half true. He didn't care so much about the truth being believed anymore. He didn't care about his captain's vocal chords anymore. He didn't care about the first mate's well-being, that was for sure. He didn't care about the inhabitants of this region anymore, either. What he did care about was getting off of this sanity-forsaken planet. He cared about the kid. He cared so much about the kid that it hurt. It hurt him mentally, emotionally, physically. Spiritually. He cared so much that he wanted nothing more than to rush the creatures that stole the kid away and made him scream for hours on end. He wanted to beat them to a bloody pulp with his own hands. He wanted to take the kid to their ship and fix him up and then lock him in his room for the remainder of their five year space exploration.

Hours. They had been locked up for hours. The captain had yelled for hours. And the kid had screamed for hours.

That was what had done them all in. They could have handled being locked up. They could have handled the kid being taken away for questioning. They could have handled a lot of things. But the screaming was not one of them. The chained men had fought against the restraints. Well, one had. The other tested them and then quickly gave up. The pointy eared sonuva-

They had been fine for a while. The kid had been taken and they were apprehensive, but they felt the kid had a good handle on the situation and would give a truthful statement and, hopefully, get them out of this. But after an hour, they could hear things. Groans and grunts. Then it changed into yelling. And then the terrible screaming. That was when the man on the floor and the man chained to the wall had started yelling. But the man on the floor gave up when he realized that no one was coming and the screams were not being drowned out by his own noise. The man chained to the wall and continued until he was hoarse and by then the screams had tapered out as well. Probably for the same reason.

It had been hours now. The screaming would start back up again and so would the yelling. But the man on the floor had given up. He leaned on the wall and glared daggers at the man yelling. He leaned his head on his knees. He plugged his ears with his fingers. He considered bashing his own head into the wall.

There was silence now. The horrible, terrible, thick, tangible silence that hung low and heavy in the room. His body ached but he hadn't noticed it for a while now. He hadn't noticed any discomfort for a while now. Everything was numb.

So numb was everything that he didn't notice the footsteps in the hallway. He barely registered the door opening. No one did. Until they threw a limp figure into the room. Until they shut the door and were retreating. That was when the yelling started again.

The man on the floor staggered drunkenly to his feet and nearly collapsed on the figure in the middle of the floor. The limp figure that wasn't moving. The limp figure that was their ensign. Their crewmate. Their friend.

And he wasn't moving.


	2. Chapter 1

The nightmare started simply enough. They had been assigned to a quick pit-stop negotiation. It was unusual as they were already underway with their five-year mission, but they had been relatively close to the recently liberated planet and the inhabitants were anxious and ready to join the rest of the galaxy and neighboring planets in trade and communications.

What the crew of the USS Enterprise had learned of the planet's history hadn't been pleasant. Under the rule of a terribly restrictive and Big Brother-esque government the natives, for centuries, had known nothing of the universe outside of their own planet. They had been enslaved by a singular family that dictated what could be said, who could do what, and when anything happened. But, an underground group had been slowly gathering resistance from the masses. They were fueled by stories passed down from the elders. Stories from before the dictatorship. Once they felt their numbers were strong, the underground group had attacked. What ensued was a little over a hundred years of war and death. The planet had been nearly torn in two as the iron fisted family, with their armies of soldiers, tried to quell the resistance but to no avail. Their own soldiers had defected to join the freedom promised by their own downfall. Eventually, the rebels won, and the governing family members were exiled or executed. That was when the inhabitants had learned of the other planets and other galaxies in their universe. Whole planets of people different from themselves. Whole planets of people willing to teach them how to be a free, flourishing, thriving group of individuals. Not a quivering mass of slaves. When Star Fleet had received contact from neighboring planets requesting help in educating the planet, they had sent their nearest ship, the USS Enterprise, to represent and negotiate on behalf of the Federation.

Ixio, as the planet was called, was beautiful. A giant chunk of turquoise floating between two brilliant yellow and red suns gave the blue-green rock an iridescent glow from space. It was dazzling. Even Bones, always the cynic, had a hard time finding a fault with the beauty. And the surface of Ixio was just as dazzling as the view from space.

The parts of the surface that weren't unrefined turquoise were made up of a sort of fruitful sand that produced delicious, sweet fruits that glowed a purple color and were bursting with juice. There was one ocean on the entire planet that sparkled pink under the red sun and a lime-green color, that did not clash with the turquoise, under the yellow sun.

All in all, the Ixio was a paradise. Apart from the war-ravaged places and people.

The Ixionians, as the natives were called, reminded one of a blue rhinoceros. Although humanoid in shape they had a thick, rough, sky blue hide that crinkled wherever their joints bent. They were tall, with the shortest being around six feet and the tallest around eight. They were also broad shouldered, about four or five feet abreast. When the landing party arrived, they hardly noticed the effects of the war on the Ixionians. Here and there, some of the guards and leaders seemed to have huge, inches deep chunks of skin missing, but none of the crew brought it up and the Ixionians didn't offer any explanations.

The landing party consisted of Captain Kirk, of course, to lead negotiations and offer the proverbial olive branch; First Mate Spock, for his level head and the fact that he didn't trust Kirk alone on new plants; Doctor Bones McCoy for medical science exploration on a recently unexplored people and to possibly offer his knowledge on medicine after their century-long war; and Ensign Chekov for what he called "science purposes." Really, he was just curious about a new planet. However, he had to have a reason to go down on a somewhat suspicious planet (who could blame them, after all?) and Kirk told him that if he had a notepad out to take notes on and seemed keenly interested in everything, he should be fine. Which wasn't hard for Chekov. He _was_ interested in everything.

The Ixionian government had welcomed the four-man landing party warmly. There were about twenty natives ready to welcome the first newcomers to their planet in several centuries. Neither party betrayed their surprise at the sight of the others. The crew at the size and stature of the Ixionians, and the Ixionians at the, well, everything about the small, skinny looking aliens.

Smiles and kind words of welcome and acceptance were exchanged before the two parties were escorted indoors. The grand palace, once the home to the dictatorial family, now housed the new government and those that had lost much to the war. It was a final mocking salute to the former rulers; they had detested the poor. What better way to slander that than to give it to the poor?

Gathering in a large room once used for entertainment, large tables were groaning under the fresh fruit and other home-grown produce that would serve as their dinner. Chekov could be seen taking notes furiously on his tablet as he admired every aspect of the table. Kirk, less conspicuously as he chatted with the Ixionian's main leader, was eyeing the luscious fruits and could only smother his laughter at the thought of Sulu, Scotty, and Uhura having to eat the food produced on the Enterprise.

Bones and Spock were both, surprisingly, enjoying themselves, the former in deep discussion about the biology of an Ixionian and the latter in deep discussion about the history of the planet. As the time wore on, everything continued to be going exceedingly well. The yellow sun was setting and the red sun was taking it's place, casting a vibrant orange glow around the former palace.

As Bones sat back for a moment to enjoy the scenery, he noticed a guard call away one of the lower level officials. He didn't return for some time. Bones had forgotten all about him and was speculating with Chekov the benefits of having two suns when he noticed the official return and whisper into his leader's ear. Their host nodded once and made a motion for the plates to be cleared. The official stepped back to his place. Not a moment later, the leader had made a signal with his hand and the guards in the room all took offensive stances, pointing their weapons at the four crewmen of the Enterprise.

The men jumped to their feet, their hands on the phasers at their hips.

"What is the meaning of this?" Kirk demanded, his pleasant, representative demeanor replaced by his captain persona.

"I believe, Captain Kirk, I should be asking you the same," the host replied coolly. Bones thought he noted a slight tremor in the blue being's voice. "We have invited you onto our planet, into our very home, trusting you and your crew, only for you to betray the very fragile trust that we gladly gave? How despicable." The Ixionian's voice was definitely trembling.

"I beg your humblest apology, my lord, for whatever it is we may have done, but I assure you that I, let alone anyone in my crew, would do nothing intentional to break the trust that you have so willingly and bravely given." Kirk had his hands out in a peaceful gesture. In that moment, Bones couldn't help but admire the negotiator that his friend had become.

"Lies," the leader hissed. "We have received word that you and your crew are here to overthrow the peace we have fought so hard to gain. That you would dare to take advantage of our naivety and attempt to take our planet and its resources for your own. We will allow no such thing." He made another hand signal.

As Kirk attempted to speak once more on behalf of himself and his crew, the Ixionians fired shots from their weapons. Bones felt a horrible electric current run through his very being before collapsing on the floor. He heard rather than saw Chekov follow suit. And he barely noticed that it took multiple shots to take both Spock and Kirk down. Before he could even breathe in, he was unconscious.


	3. Chapter 2

_**A/N:**_ **Hello! I just wanted to thank those of you who read, reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. It honestly means a lot to me. Hope you continue to enjoy my shameless Chekov!whump. XD Also, just to keep you in the loop: I've got a bit of a workload coming up, so I'll try to keep updating, but it might be a few days. At the very earliest, expect something next week. Thank you!**

Waking up hours later in a cell was, unfortunately, not an unfamiliar experience to Bones. Waking up to yelling was.

Painfully maneuvering into a sitting position, Bones had to blink back the black shapes and dots that danced across his vision. He could hear Kirk yelling but wasn't entirely aware yet of what he was saying or to whom. What he _was_ aware of was a big blue Ixionian dragging a worried-looking and limp Chekov out by the scruff of his uniform.

Without really thinking, Bones staggered to his feet and stumbled to the door just as it closed. Where were- where were they going to take him?

"Bones! How are you feeling?" The doctor turned and, for whatever reason, finally managed coherency. He noticed the rough-textured, turquoise cell and how Spock and Jim were chained to the wall. He frowned.

"Why the hell are you two strung up like turkeys?"

Jim rolled his eyes and appeared to physically swallow his impatience. "We thought it would be fun, Bones."

Bones made a sarcastic sneer and rubbed his chest where the electric current had gone into his body. "You two okay?"

Jim said yes and Spock, "Affirmative, Doctor."

"What happened? Why the hell do they think we're spies?" Bones walked over to the two men and started fiddling with the locks.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"I don't have a guess. That's my point. We did absolutely nothing wrong. In fact, everything seemed to be going just great until that one attendee was called away."

"What attendee?"

"Oh, I don't know, Jim, the blue one in the robes."

"Doctor, your skills of perception are astounding."

Bones and Jim both looked at Spock.

"Was that-did you just use sarcasm, Spock?"

"I am unaware of using anything other than words, Captain."

"There it is again! Spock! Is Bones rubbing off on you?" Kirk was grinning ear to ear. Bones took his turn rolling his eyes.

"Help us all."

Still smiling like an idiot, Jim gestured to the locks. "Any luck, Bones?"

"No, Jim. If I had, you'd be free now."

"Alright, alright, I get it." There was blessed silence for a moment and Bones continued to work. He went to grab for his Star Fleet pin, hoping to use it as a makeshift lockpick, but his fingers grabbed at nothing but fabric.

"They took our pins. Why would they do that?"

"They have been engaged in a century long war, Doctor. They learned long ago to deprive captives of anything that could be used as a weapon."

Bones frowned. He wanted to retort that he knew _that_ but the Ixionians had thick skin. Did they need to deprive their captives of a two inch long pin? He looked around his cell instead and, for the first time, took stock of what was in his pockets. "My med bag isn't here, either. I've only got a hypo." He pulled said tool from his pocket. "A fat lot of good this'll do. Anyone want a shot to prevent infection?"

"I find it odd that they removed our pins but not your hypo," Spock commented. There was a very slight crease between his brows. Bones looked at the tool in his hand.

"I noticed that too, Spock. They obviously know what needles are so why did they overlook that?" Jim was frowning. Bones shook his head.

"I'll be damned if I know."

"Perhaps they thought you would find some use for it, Doctor?"

"I hope I don't."

A few moments passed in silence. Bones continued to pick at the locks to no avail. He didn't actually believe it would yield any results, but it gave his hands something to do. As a doctor, he used his hands for everything. Whenever he was feeling any sort of negative emotion he tended to fiddle around with whatever was nearest. Which meant he always had a med tablet in hand.

He decided that the silence was too much. He finally had to ask what was on his mind. "Jim, what do you think they're doing to him?"

The captain didn't answer for a moment. He just stared almost angrily at the door, as if he held a grudge against it.

"They are probably going to question him. See if he tells a different story than what we told them when we arrived. They will try to trip him up, I believe."

"They're going to interrogate him?" Bones directed this question to Spock.

"It is what we would do, is it not?"

Bones huffed and looked away. Of course it was what they would do. But they were usually in the right whenever they interrogated people. And they didn't usually pick the youngest member (he was still practically a kid, compared to everyone else), either.

"Do you think- Jim do you think that-"

In an almost incredible twist of fate, Bones unasked question was answered with a scream. It was the most awful sound that he had ever heard. He shared looks of horror with his crewmates. "No," he said in a hushed voice. "They _can't,_ Jim! He's just a _kid_!"

"They don't know that." A horrified understanding light kindled in the captain's eyes. "They don't know that he's a kid. They've never seen someone from-" another scream ripped through their very souls, "-from another planet, let alone different aged people. They don't know…" he trailed off. Bones wanted very much to break out of this terrible place and teach the Ixionians a thing or two. Panic tried to grab hold of him, but instead of giving in, he swallowed and tried to unlock the cuffs again.

They tried talking. Why the sudden shift in attitude towards the Star Fleet crew? What could they have possibly found out or believed that would cause such a sudden flip? Their conversations were constantly punctuated by noises from Chekov a few doors down. Trying as hard as they could, they ignored it. But after two hours, Bones had made no progress on the restraints and they were talking in circles. Funny how hearing someone you care about cry out in agony had the power to make you lose focus. Bones eventually gave up in trying to free Spock and Jim. Besides, Spock had made it clear, more than once, that what Bones was doing was futile.

About an hour in, he had said, "I do not think these cuffs will open so easily."

Bones had stopped what he was doing and glared at Spock. "I am trying my hardest, Spock."

"It is not a matter of trying, Doctor. It's a matter of if they will physically open by your fiddling. Which I do not believe they will." Chekov screamed again in the distance.

"Well, it's better than sitting down and doing nothing!" Bones yelled, throwing his hands open wide. "Do you have any other suggestions?"

Spock opened his mouth, but Jim jumped in. "Drop it, Spock." Bones had continued to work and Spock remained silent.

After a while, "I can't-Jim I can't get them. Dammit!" Bones took the only thing he had on him, his hypo, and launched it across the room.

"Doctor, I highly doubt that throwing your tool will be of any use to Chekov."

"Yeah, well, Spock, it makes me feel the slightest bit better."

"Does it?" Bones spun around to glare at the Vulcan.

"Yes, Spock, it does. Because I can't do anything to help and sitting in here listening to a crewmate of mine be tortured senselessly is not something I want to be doing. Just because you have no feelings towards any of us-" Bones cut off. He was breathing hard. He wondered if he had gone too far. The Vulcan stared at him with his usual calm expression.

"Never mind."

"Stop it!" Jim suddenly roared. Bones about jumped out of his skin.

"Jim-"

"Stop torturing him! Take me instead! I'm the Captain!" Jim fought against the cuffs fruitlessly. Bones looked worriedly at Spock.

"Captain-"

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Their captain fought and fought until his wrists bled.

"Jim, you have to stop!" Bones grabbed onto his friend's arms, but the man didn't seem to notice. He kept moving and yelling in Bones' ear.

"JIM!"

But it was no good. Neither Bones or Spock could stop him from yelling himself hoarse. After two hours he was still going strong. Three, Bones joined him. Four, five, six. Bones gave up on that too. He slumped against the wall.

Hours continued to pass. He didn't know how many. But it was a lot. The yellow sun had time to set and the red one rise. Bones wanted to sleep. And he wanted to eat. And maybe he wanted to kill something. Kirk. He could kill Kirk. The idiot had yelled until his voice wore out. Bones was concerned at first, but after he kept trying to yell, Bones figured that if Jim didn't care, _he_ wouldn't care.

Spock had done nothing. Bones wanted to kill him, too.

It was in this state that the door had opened, and they had thrown in the limp figure. When Bones had staggered almost drunkenly to the ensign on the floor.

"Chekov?"

The kid didn't move or seem to breathe. Bones got down on his knees and felt for a pulse. His own heartbeat was erratic and loud in his ears. But _there!_ He found it!

"Doctor?" Bones looked up at the first officer, almost in tears.

"He's alive."


	4. Chapter 3

_He's alive._

"Oh, thank God," Jim had exhaled hoarsely. He wanted to run a hand through his hair, but being chained up, it hindered things a bit.

"Chekov?" Bones did a brief once-over. The kid was sleek with sweat and his muscles were tense. The doctor pushed aside the horrible thought that whispered rigor mortise. He checked the kid's temperature (high) and a more thorough measurement of his heartbeat (sporadic and shifting between strong and weak). Bones, trying not to think about why a strong, healthy young man's heartbeat would be beating erratically, took stock of the kid's wounds. The kid's shirt was riddled with holes that were singed around the edges. Upon closer inspection, the skin underneath was about a thumbnail's size in circumference and an angry red blister. Bones went from shock to horror to anger in about point three seconds flat. Trying to contain his anger, he sat back on his feet and forcefully scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Bones?"

The doctor ignored Jim's question. If he answered he'd start yelling and throwing his hypo again.

Speaking of, where was- Oh, right. He stood up, feeling selfish for being grateful to walk away for a moment. He took a few deep breaths through clenched teeth as he knelt back down beside the kid. He continued his examination. Nothing else seemed wrong. But he knew the outside of the body wasn't always the problem.

"Pavel? C'mon kid. It's okay. Open your eyes." Bones felt his heart beating hard as he spoke gently to the kid. It was the voice he only used for young patients. Of which he hadn't had in a while, being on a ship of adults.

The kid under his hand stirred slightly, but kept his eyes closed.

"Ensign Chekov. Open your eyes, now. That's an order."

"Dammit, Jim, don't-" But that did the trick. Chekov almost painfully opened his eyes as he squinted against the very bright blue gleam of the cell.

"Doctor?" His voice was hoarse and barely a whisper.

"Yeah, kid. What hurts?" Chekov seemed to take stock of his body before answering.

"Ewer-ewerything." His eyes filled with tears reflexively. Normally the kid would have been embarrassed, but he was too tired to care. And in too much residual agony.

"Okay, anything specific? Anything stand out that I need to look at?"

Chekov shook his head slowly. "No, ser."

"Are you sure? If there's anything internal, I need to be sure."

Again, Chekov replied in the negative.

"Alright. But if something changes, I need to know as soon as it happens." Bones let his hand linger a second longer on Chekov's shoulder. The man under him closed his eyes wearily.

"What the hell did they do to you?" Bones asked the question more under his breath than anything. But Chekov shuddered anyway.

"Zey did many things." His voice was still a hoarse whisper. "Zere vas electricity at first, but zen zey-zey used a..." Chekov took in a shaky breath. "Zey used an agonizer."

Bones and Jim swore at the same time. When Bones looked up, his friend was looking away from the kid and Bones could swear he knew what the man was thinking.

"Jim-"

"Bones, not now. I can't."

For once, the doctor let it go. An agonizer. Those were horrible inventions used solely for torture. They created intense pain in the victim's body by activating every nerve in the surrounding area of contact. And the frayed nerves would ache for hours afterward. That, and the electricity, would explain the kid's heartbeat.

The four crewmates sat in silence for a moment. Bones wondered bitterly if anyone on the Enterprise would notice their absence. Why would they? The landing party wasn't supposed to be back for five days. And Bones estimated it had been about one and a half. That thought alone almost made him want to throw up. At the sound of whispered voices, he glanced at the wall to see Spock and Jim having what appeared to be a hushed argument. Jim kept shaking his head. The doctor turned his own head back down to his patient. There wasn't much he could do for the kid if frayed nerves were the only issue. Not that he could do much if there was anything else wrong with him, for that matter.

"Hey, Bones." Looking back up, he saw that Jim was gesturing for him to come closer. Bones muttered to Chekov that he would be a few steps away before getting up and tiredly stepping towards the captain. "Do you think Chekov is lucid enough to answer some questions?" Jim had the audacity to look sympathetic.

Bones fixed his captain with a look of disbelief. "Are you crazy? Of course not! He's been tortured for twelve straight hours! Are you ready to make friendship bracelets with your wrists torn to shreds?"

Jim was about to respond, his nerves short enough as they were, when Spock spoke up.

"Doctor, we need to see what Ensign Chekov told the Ixionians under torture. If he told them we were spies, they may attempt to board the Enterprise or attack it. If he told the truth, then we have nothing to fear."

"Except them coming back for more," Bones spat under his breath. He looked at the poor tortured kid lying on his back in the middle of the room.

"Bones, I don't want to ask him these questions any more that you want me to." Jim at least had the decency to look truthful. "But we need to know whether the rest of the crew is safe. If they are, we can focus on getting out of here while keeping Chekov safe. If they aren't, we need to… focus on getting out." Bones turned away in frustration, hands on his hips. He knew that Jim was right, but he didn't like it. The kid should be able to rest. He shouldn't have to deal with another interrogation. From his own crew, none the less!

"Ensign, are you able to sit up?" Bones whipped around to glare furiously at Spock.

"Spock-!"

Chekov didn't move. Bones shared a look with Jim and then strode to Chekov's side. The poor kid was breathing, at least.

"I think he may be asleep."

There was a pause and then Jim said gently, "Bones, we need to know."

Bones didn't look up. He closed his eyes instead and breathed through his nose. Oh, how he wished he had his tablet with him right now. He made his way over to Chekov and, regrettably, shook the kid into wakefulness.

"Chekov? Are you able to answer a few questions?"

"Yes, ser," was the whispered reply.

"Okay. Captain's gonna ask you a few things and you do your best to answer. If you need to stop at any time-"

"I vill be okay, ser, sank you." Chekov managed a grimace that Bones knew to be a smile. He nodded.

"Alright, Ensign."

"Chekov, what did they inter-question you about?"

"Zey- zey believe zat we are spies. Sent here to… discower veaknesses in zeir military. Zey are under ze impression zat… ve are going to lead a conquest of zeir planet for its resources."

The other three crewmembers sat in a bewildered silence.

"Jim?" Bones looked like he was going to be sick.

"I don't know, Bones. Where would they be getting that information? Star Fleet doesn't even own a military. The Ixioian ex-leaders might try to start something, but I was under the impression that the crime family had been cut off from all contact."

"Solitary confinement kind of a deal?" Bones asked.

"That was my understanding, Doctor," Spock affirmed.

"So, what, we can rule them out?"

"Not necessarily. But, given how determined the new government is to put the past behind them, it's highly likely that this misinformation did not come from them." Spock adjusted his wrists in the cuffs thoughtfully.

"I agree with Spock. It's too backwards. Why try to hide away the past if you're going to converse with it?"

Bones frowned. "But then, we're back at square one; where would they get these lies from? I thought Star Fleet was the only one in contact with Ixion."

Jim looked at Bones distastefully. "Star Fleet _is_ the only one in contact with Ixion. They put the communication tech here themselves. Unless some covert pirates came along and put heavy duty coms on the planet…"

No one liked where this was going.

"I don't like where this is going," Bones grumbled.

"No, I don't either." Jim's voice was bitter and clipped. A dark cloud seemed to hover over his head.

"Ser…" everyone snapped their heads towards Chekov. "Zey seemed to be… wery sure zat zey… had ze right information. Zere was no… hesitation."

The older crewmen exchanged dark looks. "An authoritative source of information?" Jim muttered angrily.

"And from their only ally, they would be sure to believe it right away, would they not?" Spock added.

"Damn," Bones said and scrubbed his face with both hands. "Betrayed by our own organization."

 **Sorry, everyone, for the kind of atrocious wait. Time and school got away from me. Please note that my updates, time-wise, might be sparse like this last one was. I SO appreciate the follows and favorites as well as reviews! Until next time,**

 **-I Am a Difference Maker**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I know I said expect sparse updates, but I still apologize! As I told TheCosmicBanana (who has some really great Marvel stories, if y'all are into that) I wrote this story to near completion a while ago and then I lost the whole thing, so I'm doing it from scratch. :/ PLUS I had a bunch of dumb/crazy things happen all around the same time (my laptop DIED ON ME during FINALS WEEK *distant wails of angry anguish*, and I lost this chapter right here cuz Microsoft Word doesn't like me so).**

 **I DO promise that I will finish this story, but please continue to not expect quick updates (I would LOVE to give y'all quick updates). Thank you SO much for your support in reviewing or favoriting/following! It means a LOT to me!**

 **Until next time,**

 **I Am A Difference Maker**

* * *

 _"Damn," Bones said and scrubbed his face with both hands. "Betrayed by our own organization."_

After the four (really it was more like three and a half-Bones doubted how much Chekov was really understanding at this point) men had let that wonderful thought sink in for a moment or so, Spock offered his opinion.

"Actually, doctor, I doubt that the entire organization would be behind this betrayal. It would more than likely be one individual, or a small group of individuals, rather than all of Star Fleet."

Bones snapped his head towards Spock in what really should not have been disbelief but Bones was nothing if not a creature of habit. "You know damn well what I meant, Spock. Don't sass me right now."

"As I have had to explain to you numerous times, Vulcans do not 'sass' people, doctor. We merely state facts and statistics, which, given certain circumstances, can be interpreted as sass."

The poor doctor was ready to blow up. But before Bones could do more than sputter a few meaningless syllables, Kirk stepped in.

"Spock, facts or no facts, you come across to a lot of people as sassy. Bones, you and I both know he's right, so just let it be." Kirk's voice dropped a few decibels. "Besides, I need to ask Chekov a few more questions."

"Like what?!" One question had been enough, in Bones' opinion.

"Well-" Jim looked rather awkwardly away from his friend. He swallowed before closing his eyes and seemed to pull himself together. "Like did he lie to get out of being tortured, Bones."

"What would it matter if he lied to those bastards? If it gets him out of being tortured then-"

"Doctor, think. If they thought we were spies, what lie would ensign Chekov need to tell them to get out of being tortured?" For his part, Spock's voice was low and seemed almost... sympathetic?

To say Bones had had enough for the day was the understatement of the century. He was at the end of his rope emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually. He just wanted to lie in his bed and sleep through the next two years. He had honestly thought that nothing more could be said or done to push him any further towards this fantasy of a two year sleep.

Boy was he wrong.

"YOU MEAN T-T-to tell me-" having executed a perfect decrescendo that many a musician would have applauded, Bones continued. "-that you want to ask this kid who has been tortured for twelve hours straight if he betrayed his crew? What the hell do you think they were doing all that time, Jim?! Torturing him for the fun of it? Of COURSE he didn't betray us! He may be nineteen or whatever, but-"

"Bones, you need to listen to me. You know I don't want to ask him this. You know I would trust this kid with my life. But, like you said, he was tortured for twelve hours! We need to know what he may have told the Ixionians. Not because we think he's a traitor, but because we need to ensure the safety of the rest of our crew!" Jim was trying to keep his own temper in check. He was pissed at everything and everyone right now, and Bones yelling at him for asking a necessary, albeit unpleasant, question was not helping in the slightest. But being captain meant making the hard decisions and asking the tough questions. And this... was a tough question.

No good leader wanted to accuse their people of something so serious as treason.

"If Chekov told the Ixionians that we were spies, they would want to know if it was the whole ship or just the landing party. They would want to know our plan; do we have reinforcements? Are we planning an all-out assault? Bones, these people just got done with a war that spanned lifetimes. They don't trust easily, and they would want details. We need to know what, IF ANYTHING, Chekov may have told them. No matter how difficult a discussion it may be." Jim had the decency to look sorry at the end of his speech.

After a few deep breaths, the fight seemed to go out of the doctor. "Fine."

He walked over to Chekov who's eyes were closed. He seemed to be asleep again.

"Sorry, kid." Bones, once again, shook the kid's shoulder until the latter opened his eyes blearily.

"Ser?"

"The captain needs to ask you some more questions, ensign. You good to go?"

Chekov swallowed thickly and a resigned resolution settled on his face. "Yes... ser."

Bones sat back on his heels and gestured tiredly to Jim.

"Ensign, we need to know for the safety of our crew, so please answer as honestly as you can." The captain took a deep breath and looked his ensign in the eyes as he asked, "What did you tell the Ixionians when they questioned you about being a spy?"

Chekov may have been a, specifically, scientific genius, and he may have been only a teenager (barely), and he may have been tortured, but his pride and loyalty allowed him to effortlessly understand the subtext of what his captain was asking.

And in what had to have been a mammoth effort, Chekov slowly, shakily, raised himself up to his elbows. And looked his superior full in the face. His weak, wispy voice vanished, as did most of the pain in his eyes. A hard look of steel settled on his features.

"Keptin, I svear on ze Motherland all I said to zem vas, 'I am Ensign Pawel Chekov, assigned to ze Starship Enterprise. Our meession ees to negotiate vis ze planet Ixio as it joins ze Republic.'"

As the three men would later talk of this moment, they would claim to be unsurprised at Chekov's stubbornness and loyalty. But Jim's open mouth, Bones blank face, and Spock's raised eyebrow all told the truth. Chekov held his body up until Jim finally became aware of himself and cleared his throat.

"I-alright, ensign. I believe you. Thank you for your honesty." And the captain completely believed the young man.

"Sank you, ser." As painfully as Chekov raised himself on his elbows, he lowered himself back down to the rough stone, a sheen of sweat suddenly apparent on his face. Bones, shaking himself out of his reverie and awe at this _kid_ who had single-handedly managed to shut all three men up, started to check Chekov's temperature with his wrist as well as the kid's ribs and stomach.

"Are you done, Jim? Chekov needs some uninterrupted sleep." Bones' voice had no bite to it. Chekov was warm, but there was no fever and he showed no sign of internal bleeding or bruising. He just needed some sleep. Well, what he needed was to be off of this terrible horror-rock of a planet, but sleep would have to do.

"Yeah, Bones. I'm done."

Chekov imperceptibly nodded. Bones wished he had something to put under the kid's head as he watched his breathing even out and eyes close. For several minutes that spanned into hours the men sat in silence, occasionally falling asleep as the adrenaline and stress from before finally wore off. Bones often found himself staring absently at Chekov, watching his chest rise and fall, his limbs twitching every once in a while as the nerves attempted to troubleshoot their system. While everything about this situation sucked Klingon rocks, Bones found the rhythm of Chekov's breathing to be somewhat soothing. He realized that his own breathing had fallen in sync at some point.

Jim was staring at Chekov, too, but he wasn't mesmerized by the air intake like Bones. He was livid. Jim liked to think of himself as a patient man in terms of alien relations. Sure he would end up in fights with strangers, but when it was Starfleet related, he was professional and able to think from the other side's perspective. But there was a line, Jim had realized at some point. There was a line between negotiator, of course, and traitor, but more than that, there was a line between being held captive and accused of being a traitor, and someone who's safety and well-being you're in charge of being held captive and accused of being a traitor. All while you are helpless to stop it. And there, Jim angrily realized, was his problem. He needed to keep his crew safe. He was the captain, he was responsible for their well being. What kind of captain was he if he couldn't keep his crew safe? He looked away from Chekov, his frustration almost palpable to the others (conscious) in the room.

Bones caught Spock's eye and the two reached an understanding. They needed to escape. They needed a plan. Time to stop moping and make some decisions. Both men turned to their captain, ready to speak.

Suddenly, horribly, the worst possible nightmarish thing that could have happened, happened.

Footsteps outside the door. A crash as the door swung open. Audible sounds as Chekov jerked awake and the men in chains jumped. Shouts as the Ixionians made their way to Chekov. Pleadings as the ensign broke and begged to be left alone. Swearing as all three men watched with sinking hearts as the door slammed shut again. And Chekov was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

"NO!" Bones had stumbled to his feet in a terrible feeling of deja vu. But this time, he was standing by the time the guards reached the door, not after. He hit the Ixionan that gripped Chekov, but with the native's incredibly thick, rough skin, Bones might as well have been hitting the walls of their cell. The second guard reached around his cohort and swatted Bones away like he was a fruit fly. He slammed into the nearest wall, actually losing consciousness for a few seconds.

Bones felt a throbbing behind his eyes as the rest of his senses kicked in once he blinked himself back into awareness. There was definitely blood; something warm was oozing down his scalp. He turned his blurry vision to the door to see it shut, once again locking them away into their stone prison. "Damm-mmit," was the slurred response.

"Bones!"

The doctor waited a moment, allowing his body to play catch-up with his brain before he finally felt well enough to turn his head to his friends. Jim looked stricken and Spock, though Bones wasn't entirely sure he was yet seeing clearly, looked pale. Well, pale-er.

"Bones, are you alright?"

The doctor sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the very bridge of his nose as he did. "I'll live. I probably have a mild concussion, but I'll live."

"The back of your head is bleeding, doctor."

The quiet and lack of disassociated realism in Spock's tone took the sarcasm right out of Bones. He inclined his head towards the Vulcan as he tenderly touched the wound. Warm and wet. Great. Bones fought against the irritation; head injuries bleeding more than anyone thought was necessary was lower on the list of problems they were currently facing. Slowly he climbed to his feet, allotting time for his head to spin once he was standing. That hurt like a mother-

The worst kind of scream they had yet heard echoed down to their cell. Bones looked, horror-struck, at Jim. The captain instantly went pale and his entire body tensed. Spock had the decency to stay pale.

"He's just a _kid_ ," Bones whispered. "He's just a KID."

No one had a response to that.

Bones stood up and ran to the door, kicking it with his foot. Of course it did nothing but cause his toes to pound on beat with his head, but emotionally he felt marginally better. He leaned his head against the door and exhaled through his nose as the cool of the metal chilled the ache.

And once again, they were subjected to the awful screams of torture. And once again they had nothing to do and nothing to use to fight their way out. Though that didn't stop the three men from trying. They talked in circles, faltering every few seconds as screams penetrated their ear drums.

Then, far sooner than they had expected, the door to their cell opened. Bones stood too fast and nearly fell over, yet he still attempted to charge at the giant blue alien blocking his way.

"He's just a _kid_!" Unsurprisingly, the Ixionian simply held out a hand and stopped Bones in his tracks.

Surprisingly, he spoke to the men in a non-confrontational voice, something they hadn't heard since their initial arrival on the planet.

"We are in need of the spy doctor."

Kirk felt his face scrunch in confusion before he masked it into a neutral look. "Why?"

"We believe there was an- error."

The guard honestly could not have said anything worse.

"An _error?_ " To Bones' surprise, it was Spock who spoke, using a terribly cold tone Bones had never heard and Kirk had only heard once on their first ever trip on the Enterprise.

"Yes. An error. We need the spy doctor." The guard looked down at Bones, still pushed against his hand, almost like he were leaning on it for support. The guard frowned slightly, noticing the red on the back of the doctor's head.

"His name is McCoy and he is no spy," Spock spoke, using the same cold tone.

The guard paid no attention. "You have the red liquid on your neck, like the _zexask._ "

Bones, fighting the headache he'd had since he'd been swatted, squinted against the pain as he tried to glare at the giant Ixionian. "Yes, it's _blood._ You know, the life-force of most humanoids? Bad when it's outside of the body? And what did you call Chekov? What's a _zeskax_?"

" _Zexask_ , Doctor." Spock's voice was probably broken because he continued to use the same tone that was slightly giving Kirk and Bones both anxiety. "There is no real literal translation, but from what I've come to understand of the talk of war before we were incorrectly attacked and unjustly kidnapped, a _zexask_ is a captured spy and subsequent torturee."

Bones felt the blood in his face (or whatever was left that wasn't on his neck) drain from his face. "Chekov is not a spy," he managed to ground out through the pain in his head.

"Why," Kirk finally interrupted, a horrible feeling in his gut, "are you confused about the blood? And why do you need Bones? Surely you have doctors that can help you." He felt terrible saying that, but it seemed the guard was in no hurry and Spock was too angry to help. And Bones- well, Bones definitely had a concussion, but Kirk suspected it was worse than they initially thought.

The guard turned to Kirk. "We do not have "blood" as you called it. We have had no outsiders on our planet in many millennia, so all biology not our own is new." The guard said nothing else, as though those two sentences answered all three of Kirk's questions.

And to his horror, they did.

"Bones," Kirk snapped, not unkindly, "You need to go with him, _now._ "

The doctor, despite his excruciating migraine, managed to understand the guard and Kirk's tone.

"Right." He swallowed and managed to grab his hypo without vomiting at the up and down motions of picking something up off the ground.

The guard handed Bones his bag wordlessly. Bones hadn't even noticed he had it.

"Bones," the doctor slowly looked at his captain and friend. The man looked ragged and exhausted. He was fairly certain Jim was trying to tell him something, and he thought he knew what it was, but neither man wanted to speak aloud.

Spock gave Bones a very slight nod and coming from the Vulcan, that was the equivalent to a "Good luck." Bones returned the gesture and allowed the guard to steer him out of the room.

He hadn't even noticed until they were in the hallway, but Chekov's voice was absent. And had been for several minutes. Bones' gut flipped.

The companions got to a single metal door that marked the end of the hallway. As the guard opened the door, McCoy took in a deep breath and closed his eyes against his headache. And dreaded the second he would have to open his eyes.

 **A/N Hello! Hope you are all well. Just a brief thing: I promised I would finish this story, and by golly I am going to keep it. It's just (apparently) going to take me a hot second. Thanks for reading and following/favoriting! Honestly, I am SO honored that y'all would take time out of your days to invest in my story. Stay safe and healthy!**

 **I Am a Difference Maker (and so are you)**


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